


A Very Good Morning

by DictionaryWrites



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Hobbit Kink Meme. Ori/Fíli: rimming over Ori’s desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Good Morning

"Fíli, we can’t-"

"We can." Fíli purred, backing Ori up against his desk as he grasped at the hem of his night-shirt, pushing it up. "Bend over the desk."

"Fíli-" Ori protested, but he did turn, putting himself over the wood of the desk and spreading his legs obediently. It was early morning, and Thorin wasn’t awake, and nor was Kíli: Fíli had been stealthy in creeping into Ori’s room, where his bed and books and scribe’s desk were neatly placed, and in waking the other young Dwarf from his bed. 

"Do you have oil?"

"I don’t need oil." Ori yelped, moving to straighten up, but then despite Fíli’s words wetness touched at his entrance, hot, hot wetness, and- and oh  _Mahal,_ it was Fíli’s tongue.

Ori let out a low whine against the wood of the desk, pressing his face to its cool surface as he wriggled; Fíli spread his cheeks apart and dipped his tongue forwards, playing and circling wetly over Ori’s hole, as clever as it was when used for sharp dialogue.

Ori let out breathy little noises, doing his best not to be too loud, but oh, oh, someone could  _see_  them. “Fíli,” He whimpered. “Your uncle, what if he-“

"He won’t." Fíli murmured, momentarily leaving Ori bereft of sweet heat and cleverness, but then his mouth returned again, pressing forwards and  _in_ , so terribly and wonderfully dexterous that Ori was left arrested and utterly unable to speak further.

And why on Middle Earth would he want to? The last time he’d done that, Fíli had pulled away, and he never wanted the other Dwarf to do that ever again. His slender fingers, ever-stained with ink but unworked in matters of smithery, grasped tightly at the edges of the desk, and he pressed close onto it, grateful for the slant to its surface that allowed him to press himself back for more of Fíli’s wonderful, wonderful mouth.

Ori could feel the older Dwarf’s  _beard_ , tickling over the skin between his cheeks where he was sensitive, and the beads at the end of the two braids there were cold when they touched against his arse:  _divine_. 

Ori let out a choked moan when he heard the creak of a wardrobe door down the corridor: Thorin was awake, but Fíli just kept on going, and dear Mahal, it felt so  _good_  - Ori couldn’t bring himself to tell the other to stop.

Fíli’s fingers, clever and deft as his tongue, played now over Ori’s balls, moving up to catch about his shaft and stroke: Ori simply couldn’t take it. His orgasm was muffled by the way he pressed his face against the desk, though the sounds were still quite audible, and Fíli,  _damn_  him, was laughing as he drew away. 

Ori let out a soft noise, pulling himself up from the desk and looking with horror to the stain he’d left, but Fíli was not at all flustered and merely wiped it away with a cloth. “We are  _not_  doing that again.” Ori said, trying to be stern, but Fíli’s dirty chuckle left his resolve fading and his cheeks flushing pink under what beard he had. “You are awful.”

"I am awful." Fíli agreed, leaning and dragging his lips over Ori’s neck. "Again? I’ll take you this time."

"After breakfast." Ori managed to get out, even though Fíli was sucking the most delightful of marks into his neck, and he pushed the other Dwarf away. Despite himself, he smiled, and Fíli was grinning too. 

"Get dressed then, slowpoke!" He said, and with that he danced from the room, leaving Ori still weak at the knees as he fumbled for a proper tunic. 


End file.
